Bradley Conlon could walk down the street and know that what he was feeling was the scorn directed at him by children. He knew he was repulsive to them, they being so much more attuned to hidden natures than most adults seemed to be, but what could he do? His present quest for produce bordered necessity, so that when he stepped through the automatic supermarket doors, the sudden rush of cool air from within provided him more relief than his fellow shoppers knew. Five pounds of potatoes and one bunch of asparagus later, it was back to the gauntlet and home.

The crassness of his living room décor offended Bradley's aesthetic sense more than usual this evening, and he quickly shut the curtains lest prying neighborly eyes discover the uncomfortable truth of his taste. He wanted, after his fashion, the pleasure taken in the presence of other people, so, in order to do so without threat of their judgment, he turned on the television. For one brief night, he felt like a kid again.